


Only You and I

by kedriaa



Series: Missing Scenes Trilogy [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedriaa/pseuds/kedriaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of battle, in the dark of night, Mahariel and Alistair share one more night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You and I

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to haraamis for the fantastic beta <3

Alistair scarcely had enough time to pull his trousers up before Morrigan manhandled him out of her room. With an insincere "thank you" and a curt "goodbye" she promptly slammed the door in his face. He shuddered, still stunned at the fact that he had agreed to the ritual. While he would admit that he was not the brightest mind in all of Ferelden, he was not a complete fool. Rituals that involved sex generally involved conception; in fact, he was gobsmacked at his acquiescence. The idea of Morrigan raising a child was bad enough, but his?

Notwithstanding, Mahariel had asked him to trust her. What could he say to that? In all the time they had been together, both as fellow Grey Wardens and as lovers, she had never steered him wrong. Yet he could not help but wonder if the end justified the means.

It was something that Duncan had always said – the Grey Wardens were there to end the Blight, by whatever means necessary. While Alistair accepted that ethos intellectually, he had not realised that, when faced with it in reality, it would leave a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth.

Sighing, he returned to his room; standing half naked outside Morrigan's room was not a place to have an internal debate about the justification of the choices he had made. As he trudged along, he wondered if a servant would draw him a bath; he could still feel Morrigan's corruption on him far more keenly than any darkspawn taint.

"Ugh," he muttered as he swung his bedroom door open, "I might just douse myself in acid."

"Was it really so bad?" Mahariel asked softly.

Alistair started and then just stood at the threshold gaping foolishly at her. Firstly, it was the first time he was seeing her wearing something other than armour. She was dressed in a simple gown of pale green that accentuated her more salient features. It did not have the usual flounce and frills that Alistair had noticed most women seemed to favour. Of course, she was not like most women. Even without any embellishments, she exuded an aura of majesty that could eclipse any crowned sovereign. Despite being of royal blood, Alistair felt very much like a peasant next to her.

Secondly, he had not expected her to be waiting in his room. Certainly not since he had, for better want of a better word, dumped her. In fact, he had never expected her to speak to him again unless it was pertinent to the coming battle.

She smiled at him, but Alistair could see a touch of sadness and regret in her eyes. In the last few days, so much had happened to them, between them, and he felt that most of it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what? Sleeping with Morrigan?" she asked as she moved to shut the bedroom door. "Don't be, your fidelity is not my concern anymore."

Alistair winced inwardly.

Mahariel then sighed, letting her shoulders droop a little. "Besides, I did ask you to. If anything, I should be apologising. It would seem that the ... _experience_ was none too pleasant for you."

"No. I mean, yes. I mean..." Alistair floundered. He paused, sank into his bed wearily and continued with a sardonic smirk, "So the bastard prince gets crowned, then dumps his lover. His capital is going to be overrun by the darkspawn, and there's a good chance his soul is going to be destroyed by the archdemon, assuming, of course, the archdemon wouldn't have already eaten him. Then in comes the evil witch to steal his royal oats on the eve of battle. That's what every boy dreams of, right?"

"Isn't it funny?" She gave him a wry smile. "No matter how much you tense yourself up expecting a punch in the gut, life will always kick you in the teeth instead."

Alistair chuckled.

"I love that sound, it comforts me so." She whispered as she took small measured steps towards him. "Don't ever stop laughing, Alistair. Even in this dark and evil time, there is beauty and joy that can bring succour. You are king now, and your people need you; they need this confidence you can give them. I know it was a lot to ask of you to perform that ritual with Morrigan, but I would do anything – _anything_ – to ensure your safety."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Alistair quipped with a charming, boyish grin.

"Oh, yes." She smiled, and this time the happiness did touch her eyes. "My knight in shining armour. Let us not speak of archdemons and Blights anymore." She leaned down and gingerly brushed her lips upon his forehead. "Let us not lament of noble sacrifices and evil witches, either." She kissed him again ever so gently on his cheek. "Tonight, there's only you and I." She kissed him for the third time. On his lips.

It was like magic. Her touch seemed to banish the disquiet in his heart. With each kiss she had pressed upon his skin, Alistair felt a rush of excitement. Encouraged by her approach, Alistair reached out and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. A sense of yearning that he had certainly not felt with Morrigan swelled in his chest and it was that feeling as much as the kiss that made him breathless.

She pulled away to examine him intently, as if to commit to memory every detail of his face. Her eyes were clear and tender as they held Alistair's own, and they brimmed with love and passion like he had not seen before. A small smile touched her lips before she resumed her sojourn. She kissed his lips once more, albeit briefly, before swirling her tongue upon the crook of his neck, just where it met his shoulders. Alistair bit his lip, just barely containing the loud moan that threatened to escape. And so she continued downward – a kiss here on his shoulder, a lick there on his nipple. Every one of her touches seared into his skin, and he would cherish those unseen burns till the end of days.

Alistair sat in a daze, enjoying both the visual and tactile stimulation, utterly stunned by the depths of his emotions and magnitude of his desire.

Certainly, they'd had sex many times before and each time had been better than the last. Notwithstanding, there had always been an element of haste that seemed to tarnish their enjoyment – the ever present threat of ambush looming over them or a companion interrupting their trysts. Now, within the secured walls of Redcliffe Castle and a sturdy, locked door, Alistair was truly experiencing the pleasures of seduction and love making.

For the second time that night, Alistair was naked in the presence of an even more beautiful woman; this time, though, he welcomed it. He struggled not to buck his hips as she teased him with tantalising flicks of her wicked tongue. Then without warning, she swooped down upon him. Alistair let out an explosive breath and whimpered.

She chuckled, sending pleasant sensations down his shaft and the incoherent litany to Maker followed quickly. She devoured him with some kind of possessive ferocity that thrilled Alistair. It felt as if she was working to banish any remnants of Morrigan's touch from him. Alistair accepted the gesture wholeheartedly.

Her relentless ministrations drove Alistair to the brink. The heat that pooled in his groin threatened to erupt, and it took all of his willpower to hold it back. When her dextrous hand began to work in concert with her gifted tongue, running up and down his shaft with firm, steady strokes, Alistair knew that he would succumb all too soon.

"Andraste's mercy! Stop, wait!" Alistair eventually exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "Not like this," he explained when she looked up at him curiously.

She gave him a smile that was almost shy before she rose to her feet. Alistair sat up and studied her. She looked as divine in silk as she looked deadly in drakescale. Standing immobile, her half-lidded eyes filled with desire, she simply waited for Alistair to make his move.

Alistair reached up to the laces of her bodice and untied them slowly. He pushed her dress off her shoulders and allowed it to drop. Now that she was gloriously naked before him, Alistair took a moment to savour her form. As a proven mêlée fighter, her body was well-sculpted. Her breasts were pert, her stomach flat and her arms and legs were subtly muscled. Alistair had witnessed firsthand, in battle and in bed, just how agile and supple she could be.

Standing, he gathered her in his arms then, once again surprised to find just how light she was, considering she had the power to fell ogres. He captured her lips and kissed her earnestly as he laid her upon the bed.

Alistair had perfect recollection of how smooth and flawless her skin had been the first time they were together. Now a web of scars branded her. They did not mar her perfection, however. Instead, they added to her magnificence for they were tangible accolades of her dedication to her duty and, even more so, they were testaments of her commitment to her companions.

Tenderly, he traced a finger over a rather prominent scar that ran from her left collarbone to her breast. He remembered with a pang of guilt of how she came to obtain this scar as the injury had nearly cost her her life and, worse still, she had taken that nigh-fatal blow in his stead. She had long since forgiven him – although there was nothing to forgive, in the first place, really – considering the numerous times that he had nearly given his life to protect her. It was through this continuous selfless giving and taking that they had forged an unbreakable bond.

As she had revered his body, so he would worship hers. Alistair dipped his head and laid butterfly kisses along the puckered scar eliciting a lusty moan from her. With each kiss and each touch Alistair pressed against her skin, he mentally laid claim to her. She should belong to him, with him, but despite all the promises he had made to her, duty had taken him away from her. Even if he craved more, she would only belong to him in his heart.

"Alistair," she whispered. He looked up at her and she smouldered at him. "Make love to me," she ordered.

"Your desire is my command," he replied with a slow smile. He certainly needed no further encouragement, moving swiftly to lie atop her. Feeling just how ready she was for him, he moaned quietly. Without further hesitation, he pushed inside her in one smooth stroke, laying final claim on her body.. It was as much an act of domination as it was surrender. Alistair allowed himself a moment of smugness, knowing that no other had touched her so. Not even Tamlen, who had been her intended.

Alistair set a languid pace; savouring the warmth and closeness they shared. She looked up at him with a dreamy expression while her hand explored, dancing over his face and shoulders, caressing his arms and chest. With an impish grin she drew his hand to her face. She began with little kisses on his palm, then teasing flicks of her tongue between his fingers followed. Finally, she drew his index and middle fingers into her mouth and all of Alistair's resolve crumbled.

For all their tenderness before, they were now suddenly consumed by a hunger that demanded nothing less but complete satisfaction. She met each of his thrusts with matching fervour and strings of Elven orison. There was a lyrical, even musical tone to her words that provided an arousing counterpoint to the harmony of their bodies.

They rocked together in nigh-perfect synchrony for what seemed like a little eternity, that still came to an end far too quickly. Mahariel crested the waves of pleasure first, crying out his name and constricting around him, so tight, so hot. With one final thrust Alistair buried himself to the hilt and swiftly followed in the wake of her climax.

For a few moments he remained on top of her, knowing she could take his weight, though he lifted some of it off of her by bracing himself on his forearms. He leaned his forehead against hers, nuzzling her nose with his own in lazy circles. They were touching from head to toe, joined inside and out. He felt her heartbeat slow, become strong and steady, matching his own until their hearts beat in unison.

It was one of those perfect moments where everything else pales and blurs into nothingness, everything but the feeling of utter perfection.

The moment passed and Alistair drew back and out, looking down at the beautiful woman beneath him. She looked calm, serene even, and if he hadn't known her so well, he might have missed it. But as it was, he caught the lonely sparkle at the corner of her eye. Bending down, he gently kissed the teardrop away before carefully rolling onto his side and taking her into his arms.

No more words were said as she tucked her head under his chin, laced her legs with his and closed her eyes. Alistair briefly, very very briefly removed his arm from around her to draw the blanket over them. He laid one last kiss on top of her head and then he, too, closed his eyes and let sleep take over.

~*~

When Alistair woke early the next morning, he was – unsurprisingly but rather regretfully –alone in bed. He took a moment to commit to memory what he considered being the final night that he and Mahariel had and would share; not just because either one of them would sacrifice themselves to end the Blight, but because he did not feel that he had the right to ask any more of her.

Eventually, he rose to dress. As he sorted out his gear, something slipped from the folds of his shirt, almost clattering to the floor had he not caught it. It was a Dalish amulet and Alistair recognised it immediately. It was the one thing from Mahariel's past that she had cherished above all. It was her mother's amulet.

A small smile graced Alistair's lips as he put the amulet on. It was now for him to cherish for all his days.

~FIN~


End file.
